


Dark Days

by onlytheshortones



Category: Veep
Genre: M/M, molestation mention, season 4, unemployed Dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:25:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlytheshortones/pseuds/onlytheshortones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan doesn’t say anything to make Jonah feel better, like he probably should, but Jonah doesn’t say anything to make Dan feel better either, so as far as the raging competition that is this—thing—goes, they’re even.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Days

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between "Data" and "Tehran." Thanks to the usual suspects.

Dan feels like he used to have hobbies. Probably. He used to fill his time somehow, right? It wasn’t always nonstop working. There have been times in his life when he hasn’t had a job, and they haven’t all been like this. Have they?

Well, no, of course they haven’t all been like this, because he’s always been trying to get a new job, and that’s always been fucking possible. But now. Nothing. Nothing but all this…time to fill. And he doesn’t have fucking hobbies. He’s prepared resumés and interview notes and there’s nothing left he can do, so he’s sitting on his fucking couch at—what time is it even? It’s dark out at least—eating leftover Chinese takeout and pounding beer, which is what he’s been doing all fucking day. Because it’s out of his hands, he’s done all he can do and now it’s just a matter of getting someone to fucking listen to him. That never used to be a problem before. Fuck Selina Meyer and her entire fucking administration.

Right on cue, there’s a click of a key in the lock, and Jonah stumbles into his apartment, looking like he doesn’t entirely know how he got there. Dan looks him over. He’s got dark circles under his eyes and he’s hunched over and his hair is flat-ironed to all hell. He looks like a fucking mess. Which means that things haven’t gotten better at work.

“Hey,” Jonah says, hovering in the doorway.

“Hey.” Dan feels a pang somewhere in his stomach, but swallows beer around it.

He doesn’t have the _power_ to help Jonah now. He can’t do anything to Teddy fucking Sykes, can’t threaten him or even so much as intimidate him. Dan is nothing. He’s nothing. Everything he has worked so hard all these years to build is fucking gone, he’s worthless. And yeah, Jonah looks like hell and is clearly going through a lot and could probably use the fucking boyfriend experience, but Dan can’t find it in himself to care right now. That’s not what this is and Jonah knows it. Jonah fed him to the wolves when he was fired and then showed up on his doorstep for a blowjob four hours later. That’s what this is. That’s what they are. It’s vengeance and sparring and fucking and it’s a goddamn rush.

Except. Except that Jonah has a key to his apartment. Except that Jonah’s been the one making sure he eats lately. Except that Jonah let himself in looking all…fragile and broken, and he’s looking at Dan about as carefully as Dan’s looking at him, sizing up the damage, checking for cracks. Except that Dan’s not in the mood for a fight tonight anyway.

Jonah sits down on the couch next to Dan.

“What did you do today?” he asks dully.

Dan bites the inside of his cheek. “This,” he says. It’s a perfectly innocuous question and he can’t go to the mat, doesn’t have it in him.

“Oh,” Jonah says, looking properly abashed at least.

Dan leans his head back and takes another sip of his beer, glancing over at Jonah. He can’t help but notice that Jonah looks…small? Maybe “normal sized” would be a better way to put it, but the fact of the matter is, they’ve sat together on this couch before and never has Jonah taken up so little of his own cushion. Although come to think of it…Dan looks down at his own body, legs sprawled out in what his mother would call an ungentlemanly fashion. He’s maybe taking up a little more space than he usually does. Whatever. It’s more fucking comfortable this way. What’s Jonah’s excuse?

Jonah shifts slightly under Dan’s eyes.

“What?” he asks.

Dan shrugs, and looks back at the TV. Out of the corner of his eye he can still see the shift in Jonah’s weight and the set of his jaw, as he seemingly steels himself, then leans in and reaches for a beer.

“Light beer, Danny?” he smirks. “What, are you sorority sisters coming over later?”

It’s the same beer that Dan always buys. It’s the same beer they’ve been drinking in this apartment for about six months now, ever since this…whatever the fuck it is—became a regular thing. Sometime after London. Dan doesn’t spend a lot of time choosing what he eats and drinks. He’s been buying the same fucking beer for years. Jonah has never had a problem with it before.

These are all things he could easily remind Jonah. But what’s the fucking point? They’re going to have sex tonight, it’s why Jonah’s here. Why should Dan bother pushing back, feeding into this sick foreplay fight? What’s the point? Yeah, he’s drinking light beer. So fucking what. _His_ masculinity isn’t the one being threatened.

So Dan just shrugs and hands Jonah a half-full carton of kung pao chicken.

“Chopsticks on the coffee table,” he says passively.

Jonah looks almost disappointed that Dan doesn’t rise to the occasion, but takes the carton all the same and lunges for the chopsticks. When he sits back on the couch, Dan notices he’s seated a little more normally. Well, fuck that. Dan adjusts himself as well. Because Jonah is getting fucking _molested_ on the regular. If Jonah can act normal, Dan can act normal. Plenty of people are unemployed. Plenty of people are powerless and weak and worthless.

There’s a glare off the TV, and Dan can see their reflection in the screen, just about obscuring footage of Selina fucking Meyer on her fucking Middle East trip. Good. Dan studies the reflection. It looks so…normal. Two guys sitting on a fucking couch eating Chinese food. God. So _typical_. It’s everything Dan should be better than. Dan Egan in on a Friday night with his regular lay, the Cloud Botherer. It’s sad, really. It’s not like it’s the saddest part of his life, but it’s pretty fucking sad. And it’s what the night is.

* * *

It’s not the worst night or anything. Nobody pisses anybody else off too much, there are none of those awkward moments where Dan thinks he’s supposed to say or do something more to appease Jonah’s delicate fucking feelings. They eat their Chinese food and drink their _light_ beer and watch their CNN and they don’t talk too much. Dan doesn’t say anything to make Jonah feel better, like he probably should, but Jonah doesn’t say anything to make Dan feel better either, so as far as the raging competition that is this— _thing_ —goes, they’re even.

And it’s better than nothing. Sure, Jonah’s got something to prove, and he’s telling pointless stories about frat life in college (and Dan can read what’s true and what isn’t like Jonah’s a fucking teleprompter but he doesn’t say a word) and being way more aggressive than usual, but his hand is also resting on the couch between him and Dan, just barely touching Dan’s thigh, and much as he hates to admit, it’s a fucking anchor, a focal point when the world starts spinning around him. It’s better than being alone.

So Dan stares up at his bedroom ceiling as Jonah presses into him, and he clutches at the sheets and he makes noises of assent at Jonah’s strangled “you’re my little bitch, aren’t you, Egan?” because, hell, it’s not like that’s a demotion when he’s at rock fucking bottom, and it feels—not good, but… _good_. It’s certainly not the worst sex they’ve had.

And no it doesn’t make Dan feel better (and if Jonah’s breathing is anything to go by, it doesn’t make him feel much better either). But it can’t possibly make him feel _worse_ , and it makes it that much easier to fall asleep, Jonah curled around him in a way that, if not entirely comfortable, isn’t _un_ comfortable either. And that’s all this can be right now.


End file.
